D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

“We’ll probably get back before you do,” I said, trying to be light.

Mark nodded, but he didn’t believe that any more than I did. “Bobby, I d-don’t regret a thing.”

Hearing his stutter made my heart break. This was still Mark Dimond.

“I know, Mark.”

“And I’m proud of you, man.”

“Thanks. And thanks for being my friend.”

Mark shrugged.

“Now go,” I commanded.

Mark nodded and looked at the line of dados. He stood up straight and fixed his Ravinian cap on his head. His new, confident self was back. “C’mon, boys, let’s go knock some roboheads.”

The dados turned in a group and followed Mark. He took a few steps backward, gave me a smile, then turned and jogged off. I watched him for a few seconds, hoping I wasn’t seeing my best friend for the last time.

I had to pull myself away. Standing there feeling all forlorn wasn’t doing anybody any good. I sprinted after Elli. I suppose I should have acted more dado like, but I didn’t care about blending in anymore. I wanted to grab Elli and get the heck out of there. What I told Mark wasn’t entirely true. Eventually I planned on joining him, but I didn’t want to do it alone. I had to go back to Solara and get Uncle Press. Hopefully the rest of the Travelers would be there as well. If everything was going to play out the way I expected, our final stand was going to be on Third Earth. We had to stop the army of dados before it could march on the exiles, wherever they were. For that, we needed to be together. But first I had to get Elli.

I entered the Taj Mahal on full alert. The place seemed deserted, but I knew it couldn’t be. I didn’t start yelling out Elli’s name. That would have been the quickest way to get some dados landing on my head. As it turned out, the search didn’t take long. I made my way through the forest of fancy columns that led to the center of the Taj Mahal, and heard the soft sound of someone crying. I followed the sound until I came upon a sight that took my breath away. Sitting on a bench between two huge columns was Nevva. She was in the arms of her mother, Elli. Her head was buried in Elli’s shoulder. It was Nevva who was crying. Since I had known Elli, dating back to when we first met on Quillan, she had been a troubled woman. Her history was a sad one. She wore every moment of it on her face. She was a beautiful woman, but the many tragedies she had lived through had taken their toll. Her expression rarely varied. I think it was the only way she could keep going. It was as if she had turned off her emotions because none of them were good. As I watched her sitting there, cradling her daughter, I saw a different woman. Her eyes were closed. Her entire being had softened. She was at peace.

I didn’t want to disturb the moment. I think Elli must have sensed my presence, because she opened her eyes and saw me. She smiled. Elli actually smiled. She looked alive in a way that I hadn’t seen before. I’d been through a lot in these past few years. There were more triumphs and tragedies than I could count. But looking back on it all, I think that simple moment of seeing Elli at peace is the most beautiful thing I ever experienced.

Nevva turned and saw me. She instantly stiffened and stood up. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I’ve come for Elli,” I explained. “And to thank you.”

“What I did was for Mark,” Nevva said, trying to regain her composure. “Things haven’t changed.”

“But they have,” I said. “Your mother was right, Nevva. You do have a heart.”

Elli watched us, not saying a word. I got the feeling that it didn’t matter to her one way or the other how things would play out from that moment on. The fact that Nevva showed that one small ounce of compassion toward Mark was enough for her to know that her daughter wasn’t a monster.

“I still believe in the vision, Pendragon,” she announced.

“But you don’t,” I argued. “What you did for Mark proves it. You say that controlling people’s lives and rewarding excellence at the expense of those less fortunate is how Halla should be run, but then you show compassion. Real compassion. That’s totally against what Saint Dane has been preaching. You care about Mark. Even though he’s working against everything Ravinia stands for, you saved his life. That alone proves you believe there’s more than one side to a story.”

Nevva wanted to argue, but she knew my logic was sound.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she said, her voice wavering. “I saw all that was wrong with Halla. Saint Dane had the answer. The vision. It was about encouraging people to strive for the absolute best. Nothing less would be tolerated. It’s such a simple concept.”

“But Halla isn’t a simple place,” I said with passion. “Neither are the people who live there simple. You’re one of them, Nevva. You’re a Traveler, but you’re also a physical being of Halla, with all its flaws.”

Nevva wandered away from her mother. She seemed dazed, as if she couldn’t get her thoughts straight.

“Everything that happened is what the people wanted,” she argued.

“But it wasn’t!” I countered. “Saint Dane targeted a certain type of person and influenced them. Then he systematically destroyed all those he couldn’t persuade. There’s no other way of putting it. What he’s left with are people all over Halla who are concerned with only one thing-themselves. Is Halla a better place now? Sure, this conclave is great. I’ll bet all the conclaves around Halla are just swell. But that’s only a small part of Halla. There are people suffering, Nevva. Everywhere. Does that feel right to you?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

I added, “And now he’s going to destroy the last group of people who are keeping the spirit of Solara alive. He’s not influencing anybody to do it. He’s not using people who believe in his vision. He’s created an army of emotionless dados to commit genocide. Is that part of the grand vision?”

Nevva shook her head. I sensed she was trying to find an argument, but couldn’t.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said, confused. “The territory was to be left alone. That was the plan.”

“Looks like the plan changed,” I said.

Elli finally spoke. “You put your faith in Saint Dane, and he betrayed you.”

Nevva snapped a look to her mother. If there was one thing I could always say about Nevva, it was that she was confident in her beliefs.

Not anymore.

“I lured them to that stadium,” Nevva said, pained. “Every last one. I made sure they were sent into that flume. But not to die. I didn’t know about the dado army, I truly didn’t. If I had known, I wouldn’t have-”

“You wouldn’t have what?” I pressed. “You wouldn’t have exiled those people if you knew they were all going to die eventually?”

“No,” Nevva cried. “That’s not how it was.”

I kept at her. “What about the rest of Halla? Those exiles aren’t Saint Dane’s only victims. You may not have had a direct hand in destroying each and every civilization, but you played a pretty big part. Why is that any different from what happened to the exiles?”

“It was… it was all for the greater good,” she said, grasping. I wasn’t so sure she understood what that meant anymore.

“There’s still time,” Elli said calmly. “The exiles aren’t dead yet. Help us stop Saint Dane.”

An idea came to me. Something I hadn’t dared to think about for a long time. The possibility seemed remote at best. Maybe impossible. But suddenly, with Nevva opening up, it felt as if there might be a chance. She knew more about Saint Dane than any of us.

“Nevva, can he be stopped?” I asked.